When the King Returns
by The Crimson Archer
Summary: King Arthur Pendragon is dead. Sleeping in the depths of Avalon, but the King was never meant to sleep forever. The king would return it was just a matter of when he would be needed; no one not even destiny knew when he would return. But one powerful person still waited and he would wait forever.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin nor do I own its characters , sadly.**

"Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile."

**-Albert Einstien- **

Prologue

King Arthur Pendragon was, and would always be, the once and future king. It had been prophesied before time itself by forces greater than even those of the Old Religion. So after his death, when he was needed the most, King Arthur would return. Merlin knew this with his heart, with his mind but that did not mean his death would not destroy the warlock spirit- in a way it made it a little worse.

Consequently, as his king lied dying in his arms he tried, with all his strength, to contain his fright and his sorrow just as Arthur tried to hide his pain. For both of them, it was too hard. Too soon. The great warlock had known Arthur would die, but it had seemed so far away he was determined to save his king. _This is not the end, it can't be._ This message kept repeating in his head like it was his life mantra, as he tried to pull himself and Arthur to the lakeside. _This is not the end_. _This is not the end. This is…._

The king of Camelot knew it was the end. He had been taught from a young age, before he even picked up his first sword, war always has causalities; men will always die. Prince Arthur had accepted this, Sir Arthur, knight of the realm, had acknowledged this possible fate and King Arthur understood it would come someday. His past had been full of fortunate moments; he had survived when others had not, a luck he now knew to be from his own saviour. Merlin, who would have thought the bumbling fool, would be a powerful warlock. Arthur wanted to laugh at the irony of the whole situation but it hurt too much. He knew now why men on the verge of death wished for it to come swiftly. It was more an act of acceptance than anything. Arthur knew he was not ready to die, but accepted it anyway. He felt Merlin heavy breathes on his shoulder, he heard is worried speech the break in his voice. He just wanted everything to slow down.

"We have to make it to the lake." Merlin said. He was exhausted but determined.

Arthur shook his head as best he could and tried to speak boldly; it came out as a whisper. "Not without the horses." Everything just needed to slow down. "It's too late…. It's too late….. It's too late….."

Arthur declined in effort. His whole body was in pain, filled with infection. He was bleeding inside and out the pain so sharp and numbing it was almost not existent. His nerves could not take it. He was happy. He was ready.

"We need to get you to the lake, I can save you. We need…." Merlin tried to talk.

"You've tried to save my life…" Arthur started to let out.

"I can!"

"Just, stop. There is something I want to say." His energy was going, Arthur could feel it. He had no effort left just a few words he could push out.

"You are not going to say goodbye." Merlin stated to him, he tried to lift him up.

"No, no." Arthur said, completely leaning on his friend for support now. "Everything you've done. I know now." He took a breath.

"For me.

"For Camelot.

"For the kingdom you helped me build." Arthur smiled with all his might.

"You didn't get help from me." Merlin butted in.

"Maybe. " He chuckled or at least tried to. Merlin the idiot.

"I want to say something I have never said to you before. Thank you!" Arthur took in another breathe with his last words.

He lifted up his gloved hand and stroked Merlin's hair as he had when they were younger, before Arthur was king and when things were a lot simpler. A smile was on his death. The Once and Future King took his final breathes. Death came easily to him. Arthur just felt relaxed.

Merlin saw his king smile and he tried to return one. He felt the smooth leather on his ebony hair. He watched as the King collapsed and death finally took his friend.

"Arthur, Arthur."

Merlin called for the dragon he could not give up hope.


	2. Chapter 1

**Hi I just realised in the prologue I didn't have an A/N so here it is. This is my first fanfic for Merlin on this account. I wanted to take a twist from a lot of the return fics because lots of them focus on Arthur in modern or futuristic times (but still absolutely brilliant) so this is slightly different. Disclamer in Prologue. Oh, and thanks for all the people who have Followed or Favourite this story. Enjoy. **

The Prophecy 

As the King's barge drifted further and further away, a single ember on the vast, blue ocean, Merlin threw the great and beautiful sword, Excalibur, into the lake. It lifted high into the air and flipped; the sun glistened off its golden hilt. Just as the sword started to drop towards the crystal water a pale hand broke through the surface. The warlock watched as Excalibur fell gracefully into the hand. It was grasped tightly before the hand disappeared back into the depths. The elegant blade followed after and for the first time in a long while Merlin smiled.

He drudged back to the bank where he had held Arthur in his arms just hours before. Merlin looked back once more. A clear lake, the tower looming over the centre of it. "I will return." He vowed before setting off into the forest.

He walked back to the horses. Arthur's white stallion whinnied as Merlin approached, he could sense the lack of his master. Merlin looked at the horse, rightly dubbed Noble by the deceased king when the creature had first appeared at the royal stables some five years ago, with a depressed expression and saddened eyes, perhaps Noble understood him or maybe not . Either way the stallion pressed his nuzzle under Merlin's hands and Merlin stroked him softly. His own mare, Chestnut, had lifted her head and he stroked her long nose also. He was absolutely exhausted. So he sat down not far from the horses and slept.

By the time Merlin awoke it was late evening. The sun was just visible from where he sat; its rays just bouncing off the trees' leaves. A low rumbling sound crept from Merlin stomach he had not much to eat; after all he had been busy trying to save his king. There had been no time for hunting or foraging. He just reached into one of the saddle bags and pulled out two apples. He put one aside and bit into the sweet flesh of the other. As best he could, with a sharp stone, he cut the second apple in half and walked over to the horses. He portioned one half to Noble and the other to the mare. Both greedily accepted.

_What now? _Thought Merlin, as he stroked the mare's nose. He could return to Camelot, but it was just too painful at the moment, too soon. Maybe in a few days just to sanctify the King was dead, to comfort Gwen, to see the knights and to let Gaius know he was alright, well physically at least. Even if he felt ready to return, it was about five days ride from where he was. With no food, no clean water and no way of getting either he was going to make it very far, especially with two starving horses. No he needed somewhere to rest and recover. There was one place he knew which would be perfect: the druids.

It took a half the day for Merlin to scout for the closest druid camp, but eventually he found them by coming in contact with one of the elders, the man had said he was named Torbraide. They were less than half day's ride from where he was.

Merlin set off at once.

He came to their clearing just before nightfall, when the sun was shining its last rays and the coldness of dusk had just settled. As Merlin walked into camp, the horses following behind him, he was greeted by many faces. Men and women turned from the fires they were tending to and the children looked round from their playing.

One young girl scampered over to him. She had bright green eyes and long blonde hair tied back in two messy plaits, a simple green cloak fell over her shoulders. She was obviously sad. Her little hand came from beneath her cloak and a little daisy grew in her palm_. We are sorry for your loss Emrys. Peace has come._

Merlin nodded and smiled sadly at the young girl._ Thank you. _She ran away again into the arms of her mother.

_Emrys. _The warlock looked up as he sensed the aura of magic. A man stood before him dressed in brown. He lowered his hood to show greying hair, an aging face and two hazel eyes filled with compassion. "I am Ariath, Torbraide sent me to greet you. I would apologise for your recent loss yet it seems Wrena has already said it." Merlin nodded in thanks. He was too caught up to speak, his throat dry and sore. "Come let us go in." A young boy came and took hold of the reigns from Merlin. _He will take good care of them_. Ariath spoke in the young warlock's mind.

_Thank you. _Noble and Chestnut, the horses, were led away.

Ariath guided Merlin into one of the tents. Inside was draped with colourful scarfs and light hangings. A rich aroma of burning lavender filled the air and on the floor laid a mat of woven reeds. On it sat three elder figures, two women and a man. The elders.

_Welcome Emrys. _A gentle voice spoke._ Please sit. _One of the ladies with eyes as dark as night motioned him to sit. Merlin sat before the elders; Ariath stood at the entrance as if keeping an eye out for any eavesdroppers.

"Peace Emrys. Now the King is gone, but please speak was it as prophesised?" Torbraide, the male Elder, asked sincerely.

"Just so." Merlin replied, a trickle of a tear came to his blue eyes. "Mordred struck him with a fatal

wound using dragon forged sword at Camlann…. He died days later at the lake of Avalon, he.. he.."

_He now sleeps as the depth of Avalon. _Finish the second female elder. She wore a serious expression, but flashed a toothless smile for Merlin.

"Indeed," agreed Torbraide. "However, this means that the rest of the prophecy will be fulfilled."

"The rest of the prophecy. The return of Arthur, you mean, when Albion needs him." Said Merlin rather sadly.

"Yes." Spoke Torbraide. "And also no. There is a bit more to the prophecy than that for it shall say on his resting place:

_Here lies Arthur, King Once, and King in the Future._

But, the true prophecy speaks that The Once and Future King and Emrys will unite Albion in peace and prosperity that shall last for a century after the king's death. Then when he is needed most the King will return and he and Emrys will remind Albion of its unity again."

"Well, then that's that. It could be thousands of years until he returns and then he will just go again." Merlin retorted.

"Ah Emrys this is where the prophecy is unclear. Arthur will return but not just once. Whenever he is needed and whenever you need him. Do not threat Emrys the King's returns are much sooner than you think. Destiny has a way of controlling herself." Torbraide replied.

Merlin sat shell shocked. He would not be alone forever Arthur would return and it could be soon. It was petty but something to hold on to.

"Thank you." Said Merlin, with a glint of hope.

"Now I think is time you had rest. You are welcome to stay with us Emrys, but I have a feeling it will not be for long." The women nodded in agreement. "But for now let us rest. This is only the beginning!"

After greedily accepting and eating three whole bowls of warm, thick stew, Merlin had not realised how hungry he was, the warlock settled down for the night. Under a blanket of stars he thought of many places: home in Elador and his mother; the knights wherever they were; Gaius in Camelot and poor sweet Gwen, who did not yet know she was a widow. Most of all he thought of those he had lost and how Arthur was now part of the list.

That night Merlin cried himself to sleep under the stars.


	3. Chapter 2

**Okay, a short chapter 2. Hope you enjoy and I will try to update sooner. **

Without the Queen Consort

"Two hundred and six men are named dead, hundred and fifteen are injured and the healers expect to lose four more tonight." Spoke Sir Gaheris. He looked towards his Queen. "There are still many unaccounted for, but we have not had full numbers, your majesty."

The words penetrated the Queen, and hit her face on as if she had been pushed underwater and submerged in numbers and words. Hundreds dead, hundreds missing, more still to be lost. The Battle of Camlann had not been her first fight, but it was the first as a ruler and now she had the after fall to deal with. Before she could mourn the losses or help with the injured and now she had to do that on a vaster scale as well as tell the families, sort out the costs, resources and alliance. All while still panicking for her husband (and her best friend).

She thanked Sir Gaheris and dismissed the council. Most of the knights left dutifully only the loyal Sir Leon stayed behind. Normally, he would be the first to follow order, but on this event he knew the queen, who was sloughing in her throne, needed some support.

He himself had had a great ordeal. Over the past days (since the battle), his golden curls, usually well cared for and pampered, had collapsed in on their self and his neat beardy had acquired more thickness. His skin had paled making his eyes a vivid blue and highlighting the bags beneath his eyes. The showed his sleepless nights.

"My lady." Leon walked round to stand in front of the Queen, she looked up. Her emerald dress was pristine, her hair beautifully plaited and her elegant headpiece was draped upon her forehead, yet her dark eyes were framed in dark lines and tear streaks ran down her face. It had been silent, her crying, and the sight shocked Leon slightly.

"Leon." She tried to compose herself with her handkerchief.

If Leon could have brought himself to hug the queen, he would have. She looked so sad. Yet, he felt it would not be right; it was different from they were children.

"I know it's..." 'Hard' was not the right world. "It's futile to try and be happy but we have to be thankful that Arthur may not be dead. He could be trying to come back." Leon was kidding himself even. "No, no leave it."

"Leon, thank you. But I know as well as you the chance are he gone. Since Gaius returned with his signet ring it has seemed as if even he knew this was his fate. We are just waiting for the words to come, but to be honest I feel that, when they do come, it will not be pleasant."

A booming knock echoed from the oak doors of the council chambers. Before the Queen or Sir Leon could respond a guard appeared at the door. "Your majesty, Sir Percival has been reported travelling through the east gate; he is on his way to the castle."

"Thank you." Guinevere responded. The guard disappeared from behind the door and the Queen stood up. Carefully, she walked over to where Sir Leon was still looking at the now shut door and linked her arm in his.

Perhaps Sir Percival would have words.


End file.
